


A PhD and A Shop Assistant

by BadVVolfs



Category: Doctor Who
Genre: Alternate Universe - Flower Shop, Alternate Universe - Human, Amy is a Good Bro, Fluff and Angst, Gen, I'm just gonna be turning all of the accepted DW Human AU Tropes on their heads for this, fair warning this is gonna be heartbreaking later on
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-04-10
Updated: 2017-05-29
Packaged: 2018-10-17 08:09:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,413
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10589925
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BadVVolfs/pseuds/BadVVolfs
Summary: Rose Tyler, working towards her doctorate, does not like flower shops. At all. Far too many opportunities for bad jokes and worse pickup lines. If she's going to go in, she's not going to let even a whisper of her first name escape.She's got to admit, though, the shop assistant is pretty charming... and horribly clumsy.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Welcome to the first multi-chapter story of this account! This probably won't be all that long - I'm foreseeing only about 5 or 6 chapters. Hope you enjoy it!

It’s amazing how fast time can slip away when you’re not paying attention.

For instance, Rose could have sworn it was November just yesterday, but then her phone had the sheer _audacity_ to inform her it was February first. Also known as her mum’s birthday. And Rose hadn’t a thing for her.

_Brilliant._

Which is how one Rose Tyler found herself scowling at the sign for the flower shop that was just a convenient block away from the university. It was named, quite unoriginally, ‘Amelia’s Flowers’ and there was such a riot of blooms in the front window that Rose couldn’t actually see into the shop. She didn’t have time to run anywhere else, though, so she would have to brave the florist’s.

Rose had never particularly liked any sort of floral-related activity; too many opportunities for jokes, sly comments, and clumsy pickup lines. Far too many dates had shown up with a single rose for her – she didn’t even _like_ roses. They were overdone, and she always pricked herself on the thorns.

Her mother adored flowers, though. Too much, in Rose’s opinion. Still, it was a good thing when one was looking for a last minute gift for her.

She opened the door to the shop, and a bell chimed to announce her presence. Half-hidden behind a large display of carnations was the counter, where a tall woman with red hair (presumably Amelia) was nodding slowly as she listened to whoever was on the other end of the phone, lips pursed unhappily.

Before Rose could even debate if she wanted to risk interrupting, there was a clatter to the side. Probably-Amelia rolled her eyes, but now it looked more like she was trying not to smile instead of trying not to swear. Looking over, Rose found the source of the sound was a second person, who had apparently tripped spectacularly over a stack of brightly colored plastic pots.

“Ah, hello,” he said, smiling up at her from the floor, green eyes sparkling far too much for someone who had just landed very ungracefully on their arse. “Can I help you find anything today?”

“Maybe you should focus on finding your own feet first, mate,” Rose laughed as she held out a hand. He grabbed it, but barely put down any pressure as he stood.

“I’d say that that could have gone better, but I’ve had far worse first impressions,” he said lightly, releasing her hand. “So! What brings you in today, Ms.…?”

“Tyler,” she answered quickly. “But my friends call me the Doctor.”

“Ah, my apologies then.” He tilted his head to the side, somewhat like a puppy. “Just the Doctor?”

Rose shrugged self-consciously. She had no idea why that had slipped out – it was a stupid joke, held up mostly through mobile contact names and occasional drunken snickering. “Yep. Old joke – and you are?”

“John Smith,” he said cheerfully. “My friends call me the Florist, though.”

She blinked. “What, really?”

“No,” he laughed. “I’m just the shop assistant, Amy’s the flower genius around here.” He gestured towards the ginger woman, who was still on the phone and looking slightly annoyed with their chatter. John waved at her as she slipped into the back office. “She doesn’t particularly like customer relations, though,” he commented as the door clicked shut. “But I’m even more rubbish at it, unfortunately.”

“Seem to be doing just fine to me.”

“Ah, but you’re not being rude,” he said quickly. “Nice people I can handle, it’s the rude buggers who only ever complain that I just can’t do.”

Rose smiled; it wasn’t flirting, she could tell that much. He was just stating a fact that happened to be complimentary. “Well, I’ll try to keep it up, then.”

He beamed at her. “Brilliant! Now, what are you looking for, Doctor?”

“It’s my mum’s birthday,” she explained. “And I sort of… forgot.”

John nodded sagely. “Say no more, I’ve got just the thing.” He led the way through the maze of flowers to a selection of fresh bouquets, most of which contained a purple flower that looked vaguely familiar. John didn’t even hesitate before pulling out one with the purple flowers, yellow daisies, and smaller, fuzzy looking yellow buds.

“There we are,” he said, presenting it with a flourish. “Irises, for February; yellow daisies, for sunshine; and solidago, for a lovely little bit of filler, and a visual representation of the warm fuzzies.”

Rose laughed a little at the description and smiled over the arrangement at him. “It’s perfect, thank you.”

“My pleasure!” He stuck his hands in the pockets of his apron and rocked a little on his heels. “Anything else I can get for you? A vase, perhaps?”

Rose thought it over. Jackie already had several vases at home, but it certainly wouldn’t hurt to add a little something to the gift… “Yeah, why not? What do you have?”

He grinned and led her over to a set of shelves by the counter that were filled with different sizes and shapes and colors of vases. “A good bit,” he answered lightly. “See one you like?”

Rose cast her eye over the selection critically, looking for one that would match her mum’s taste. A flash of pink caught her eye, and she carefully shifted the flowers to one hand and reached forward.

The vase was a deep, royal purple at the base, and faded as it went up, until the lip was a soft, pastel pink. It was exactly the sort of thing Rose could picture in the flat, and more than that, it would match the irises fairly well.

“This one,” she decided, turning back to John. “It’s just the sort of thing my mum likes.”

He nodded eagerly and held out his hands for it. “Excellent! I’ll just go rinse it off for you, then, and meet you at the counter.”

Rose stepped over to the counter as John headed to the back and set the bouquet carefully down on the counter so that she could look through her bag for her wallet. John returned in short order with the now-shining vase, and artfully arranged the flowers in it. When he was satisfied, he turned to the cash register.

“Right, that’ll be £40 even, Doctor.”

“Is that all?” Rose asked, a bit surprised. She had been expecting to spend more than that on flowers that just _had_ to have been imported, not to mention the lovely vase.

John nodded at her with a smile that was somewhat sly, looking up at her from under the flop of dark hair that had fallen forward when he bent over the register. “Friends get a 10% discount.”

“Oh. Ah…”

He looked down, suddenly very interested in the buttons on the old register. “You did say that your friends called you Doctor, and I’ve been calling you that.”

Well. She didn’t really have a reply to that. Rose cleared her throat awkwardly before speaking as she handed over the money. “Right. Um, thank you.”

He nodded shortly and busied himself with counting out her change. “Right then, here you are, Doctor.” His fingers brushed her palm as he dropped the coins into her hand, and Rose absolutely did not shiver.

“Thanks,” she said, hurriedly dropping the change into her purse and promising herself to dig it all out later to organize properly. She grabbed the vase and hurriedly exited the shop, wondering why his casual words had flustered her so much.

She also had the thought that Shareen’s birthday was in a few weeks. Surely her best friend would appreciate some flowers on her birthday…

As the bell chimed again to signal Rose’s departure, Amy reappeared from the back office. “You know, I could be wrong, but I don’t think staring moonily at the customers is in your job description.”

John waved a hand at her vaguely, not looking away from the door until the last trace of blonde hair had disappeared. “Can you blame me? She was… beautiful.”

“Beautiful enough to deserve that 20% discount you told her was 10%?”

He cringed and turned to look at his boss and best friend. “Ah, well –”

Amy shook her head, but she was smiling. “Forget it. Just bring me a really excellent cup of coffee tomorrow morning, and I’ll consider us to be even.”

John perked up, nodding happily. “Consider it done, Pond!”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The mysterious 'Doctor' returns to Amelia's Flowers, and John gets a good ribbing from his coworker.

It had been exactly three weeks and five days when the Doctor next walked into the shop.

Not that John was counting, or anything.

Still, when the bell chimed and he saw the blonde hair and wide brown eyes, he tripped over himself trying to reach the door before the other assistant could. Not that that was anything new, really. The tripping, that is.

He gracefully ignored the snickering from Amy and Mels as he straightened up and smiled at her. “Hello, Doctor!”

“Hi, John,” she responded, amusement in her eyes. “How are you?”

“Oh, fine, fine,” he said airily, brushing off the front of his apron nonchalantly. “How are you?”

“Doing well, thanks,” she said. “My friend’s birthday is tomorrow.”

“Is it?” he said. “Well, I don’t suppose your friend likes flowers, do they?”

“She does,” the Doctor grinned. “She especially has a fondness for tulips. I don’t suppose you have any?”

“As a matter of fact, I do.” John led the way over to where the tulip stock was, gesturing grandly at the spread. “So! Does she have a favorite color?”

The Doctor, it seemed, had not expected so many choices. “There are _orange_ tulips?”

“Yep!” he said, hands moving about excitedly as he spoke. “There are red, yellow, white, pink, cream, purple, orange, and some are stripey, even.”

“Oh.” She blinked at the large array. “I thought… I’ve only ever seen yellow and red ones before.”

“Those are the most popular,” he nodded. “But that just makes the others more special. I tell you what,” he said, moving forward to select a few choice blooms, “How about a rainbow bouquet for your friend?”

She gave the display another once-over and nodded at the choices in his hand with a smile. “Yeah, that’ll be brilliant.”

John beamed and carefully pulled out a few more to make an even dozen. “Would you like a vase again?”

“Nah, Shareen has some of those hanging vases on her walls,” the Doctor explained. “They’ll end up in one of those, I’m sure.”

John nodded, undaunted. “They’ll look magnificent! I’ll just get some plastic to wrap them in for the trip over, shall I?”

She grinned at him. “I’ll meet you at the usual place.”

John spun around to head for the back, and for that reason alone. It absolutely wasn’t to hide the blush on his cursedly pale cheeks, because there was no reason for him to be blushing. _None. At. All._

Mels, of course, accosted him in the back.

“So that’s her?”

“I’m busy –”

“She’s cute.” There was a grin on Mels’ face, too, but it was far more predatory than the Doctor’s. “Don’t waste too much time, Johnny boy, otherwise I’ll snatch that one up for myself.”

“Haven’t you got a girlfriend already?” he said pointedly as he wrapped up the tulips.

“No,” she said, shrugging. “We’re more like casual fuckbuddies.”

She laughed as John spluttered incoherently at her and snapped a rubber band towards him. It hit directly against his shoulder and she sauntered out with a hair flip that would look far too cheesy on anyone else as he flailed ineffectually. The door swung closed and he bent down to retrieve the rubber band, wrapping it quickly around the stems to hold the arrangement together.

He ran a hand over his face, willing his blush to die down and cursing himself for talking about the Doctor around Mels. Amy’s friend only ever helped out on the weekends, but John really should have known better. She was absolutely shameless, and… and she was _in the shop with the Doctor while he was in the back_.

Some part of him wondered distantly where the high pitched ringing in his ears was coming from as he darted out of the back, horribly embarrassing scenarios playing out in his head. Mels telling the Doctor that he fancied her, Mels telling the Doctor about how he had waxed poetic about her in the intervening weeks between her visits, Mels telling the Doctor –

Nothing. John blinked at the scene in front of him. Mels was watering the hanging baskets in the window, smirking at him from around her watering can, and the Doctor was waiting by the counter, frowning down at her phone. There was a little crease between her eyebrows, and John felt the sudden urge to smooth it away with his thumb.

Mels, the little _minx_ , was biting her lip to hold back laughter as John swept his hair back into some semblance of order and walked to the counter. She knew _exactly_ what she had done.

John made a mental note to purposefully mess up her coffee tomorrow on his morning run.

“Here we are, then,” he said, hoping to whatever higher power there might be that his voice sounded normal. He handed over the tulips, smiling when the Doctor visibly brightened at the sight of his careful arrangement. “That’ll be £30.”

“Even cheaper than before,” she commented as she handed over the correct amount.

“Simpler arrangement,” he shrugged, busying himself with the register. “Though no less beautiful.”

“Very true,” she said. “My mum absolutely adored the irises and daisies, by the way.”

“Did she?” He looked up at that, genuinely excited to hear how his choice had been received.

“Yeah,” the Doctor smiled at him. “She said it was probably the nicest bouquet she’d gotten since her wedding.”

It was hard not to preen a little under a compliment of such magnitude, and hearing the Doctor’s giggle at his self-satisfied expression made it even better.

“Well, that just means you’ll always have to come here to get flowers for your mum, now,” he said, smiling broadly back at her. “Can’t let your standards drop, of course.”

“Of course,” she agreed. “I’ll see you around, John.”

“I – uh – you,” he stammered, not expecting such a blatant assurance of her return, even after his light teasing. “Yeah!” he called as she walked out the door, bell chiming merrily at her exit. As she walked out of sight, he dropped his head into his hands. “ _Yeah,_ ” he repeated mockingly to himself.

“You are breathtakingly pathetic.”

“Shut _up_ , Mels.”

With the door safely shut behind her, Rose smiled goofily into the tulips. She’d _flustered_ him, she had actually, properly, flustered John!

While she was sure that Shareen would adore the flowers, the latest dirt on Rose’s love life would probably be her oldest friend’s favorite gift this year.

Although… there was the little issue that he didn’t even know her actual _name_ still…

And she was absolutely sure that Shareen would get the biggest kick out of Rose, of all people, fancying a bloke who worked in a flower shop.

Rose bit her lip as she walked along, thinking it over. She didn’t really have an excuse to go back for a while now, but she didn’t want to have to wait for months to see John again. Surely it would be weird though if she just showed up to see him?

She sighed quietly to herself as she headed down into the tube station, and resolved to at least tell John her proper name before April.

Now she just needed a reason to get flowers again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow! The response to this story definitely exceeded my expectations - so many thank yous to everyone who left kudos and/or comments! I suppose this is also the time to tell you that the heartbreaking bit won't happen for another chapter or so. Brace yourselves ;)


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rose and John are merely children masquerading as adults, but at least they're getting somewhere.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for the long wait! Finals week kicked my ass, and then my internship started up and gave me no room to breathe, but I'm settling in now, so expect better update time in the future!

Rose Tyler was from the estates.

It was something that had hung over her head for her entire life, leading to assumptions and stereotypes and derisive sneers. She was only two days past her tenth birthday the first time someone shouted a sexual suggestion at her on the street. She didn’t attend the best school growing up, and it was assumed that she’d never amount to anything important.

This was a reality, however, that she refused to accept. Why should someone else get to decide her worth, her potential? Why couldn’t she make that choice on her own?

 Her stubbornness was come by honestly – anyone who knew Jackie Tyler could attest to that. Jackie herself insisted that Rose’s intelligence was all from her late father, Pete. But her motivation, her drive to succeed… that was from an outside source. In particular, it was from her Year 8 science teacher; a gruff man with a Northern accent and who seemed terrifying on the surface, but was actually one of the most well-liked teachers in the school. He delighted in challenging students, but in ways that made the lessons fun, and was more than willing to help with homework from any class, not just his own. Without his help, Rose was sure she never would have passed history – she was absolutely rubbish with dates.

It was him who had initially put Rose’s mind to the idea of higher education. He had exclaimed over her English papers, telling her that she was ‘utterly fantastic’ with words, that it would be a tragedy if she didn’t pursue it. He had even been the one, years later, that she returned to for help in applying to university.

And now, here she was, working hard on her doctorate in English, leading to her childhood friends laughingly referring to her as ‘the Doctor’ on occasion. She barely enough time to see her mum or her friends or anyone outside of the classroom or the library… but she was actively looking for excuses to stop by the flower shop around the corner.

She was so screwed.

* * *

John Smith was from an orphanage.

He tried not to let it bother him, and was moderately successful. It was just another fact about himself that he couldn’t change, like his green eyes or his inability to go more than an hour without doing something spectacularly clumsy and most amusing for onlookers. He was very good at communicating with people much older and much younger than him, but talking with people closer to his own age was very hit-or-miss. Amy, his oldest friend, fondly referred to him as ‘a right alien’ sometimes.

He was a study in contradictions: extremely smart, but with no patience for formal schooling (he had attended exactly one week of university classes before deciding there were better things he could be doing); hyperactive to the point of concern, but with the steadiest hands around when it came to delicate work; an absolute chatterbox around his few friends and the lovely old ladies who stopped by the flower shop, but complete rubbish with words the moment something outside his comfort and control happened. Even without a degree, he could have gone on to work anywhere he pleased, with his brain – but Amy found herself adding him to the payroll of her small business instead. She didn’t really understand why he wanted to work at a tiny flower shop, friend or no, but she wasn’t going to complain, either. Being able to work with John every day was fun, even if he was more ridiculous than usual sometimes.

Particularly around one specific blonde customer…

A specific blonde customer that he had secretly given a 20% discount (claiming it was only 10%) both times she had been in, and had talked about so often that Amy almost snapped at her husband when he said something off-handedly about one of the doctors he worked under at the hospital, simply because she was getting so tired of hearing about _the_ Doctor.

John really, truly, had it bad.

* * *

Rose returned to Amelia’s Flowers on a Tuesday in late March (three weeks and three days since her last visit, but who was counting? John, of course).

Amy was out on an errand, and since it was a weekday Mels wasn’t there, so John was the lone florist about when she walked in, and therefore busy with another customer.

Not that this was a bad thing. In fact, it was giving Rose more time to come up with a decent excuse as to why she had stopped by again. She hadn’t exactly _planned_ on stopping by on this non-descript Tuesday, but she had been walking past and, well, her feet had just turned her straight into the doorway. And then her hands had pushed the door open and her feet had carried her the rest of the way inside and she couldn’t just _leave_ , because John had seen her already and flashed her a smile and it wouldn’t be polite to go without at least talking to him, and wasn’t that what Rose wanted to do anyways? Talk to John? She had promised herself the last time she had been in that she would have a proper conversation with him before April, and even tell him her first name, and now it was March 23rd and this was the first time she had been back since getting the tulips for Shareen.

For the first time in a very long time, though, Rose Tyler found herself at a loss for words. What could she _possibly_ say to John at this point? How could she explain her presence in the store without making it sound like she was specifically seeking him out? How could she bring up the name thing? What would he say to _that_? Would he think she was too weird, for keeping her name a secret simply because of his job? This wasn’t a Bond movie, for godssake, it was merely something that had slightly annoyed Rose for most of her life – was she blowing it out of proportion? By introducing herself as ‘the Doctor’ instead of just Rose, had she ruined any chance she might have had with John? John, who had apparently finished up with the other customer and was walking towards her now, oh god, oh god, what do I say, what do I say, _you’re getting a doctorate in English Rose why can’t you think of any words for this stupid –_

“Hello, Doctor!”

A grin spread across her face automatically, belying the panic she still felt. “Hi, John. How are you?”

“Oh, peachy,” he said, smiling back. “You?”

“Great, I’m doing great,” she said, hoping against hope that her voice didn’t sound as bad as she thought it did.

He was still smiling, so maybe there was still a chance for normalcy. “Brilliant! And what can I help you with today? Another bouquet for your mum? Another friend with a birthday? Just a little something for yourself to brighten up your day?”

A short laugh escaped Rose at that – it was a bit silly, but it was a brilliant way to buy flowers for no reason, and he had handed the excuse to her on a silver platter. “Yeah, thought I might try my hand at keeping something alive for longer than a day.”

“Best to try that with a hardy plant first before moving up to goldfish,” he nodded seriously, though the smile was still firmly on his face.

Rose nodded in agreement, grinning. “Yeah, thought it might be kinder to accidentally kill a stick instead of an animal. So, do you have anything like that here?”

“We do, actually,” he said, gesturing her to follow him back to a small corner of the shop, where a little table was set up with tiny individual pots. “Not really sticks, I’m afraid, but succulents are shockingly difficult to kill.”

“Oh, wow,” Rose breathed, looking over the array of small green plants, red and purple highlights standing out on some. “Much better than sticks.”

John gestured over the whole selection as he spoke. “Succulents are brilliant for people who have limited time – they don’t require much, just natural light and an ice cube in their pot every few days. They’re desert plants, so you don’t have to worry about watering them religiously. And, as you can see, healthy succulents are very colorful, which a lot of people don’t realize.”

Rose was nodding along, watching him closely and apparently very intent on his words,

John blinked and offered her a small smile. “Ah, do you have any questions?”

“Are you free this Friday?”

The words tumbled out before Rose could stop them, or even really think about them. _Shit, this is where he rejects me, why did I come back, why do I do this to myself –_

“Friday?” John’s eyes were wide, almost comically so, as he took in her question. “Ah, I think so, yes.”

“Then would you like to go to dinner with me?” _In for a penny, in for a pound._

“Like – like a date?” His voice got a bit squeaky on the last word, and the small part of Rose that wasn’t feeling simultaneously horrified and excited noted that it was absolutely adorable.

“Bit like a date, yeah,” Rose said, awkwardly nodding and praying that the entire conversation would end soon.

John was silent for a long moment, just staring at her, and just as Rose was beginning to think she had drastically misread the situation, he cleared his throat and nodded. “That – yeah, that sounds lovely. Ah, would 7 o’clock work for you?”

“7 would be perfect. Where should we meet?”

“I could pick you up?”

“Oh, that’s not necessary,” she said swiftly – she didn’t want his opinion of her to change if he came to pick her up and found that the address belonged to some council estates.

(It was easier, living with her mum, and made Jackie happy, and Rose hadn’t had time to look for her own place to live yet anyways.)

“I tell you what,” she decided, “I’ll meet you out front of the shop, and we can walk to the restaurant. It’s not far from here anyways.”

“O-okay,” he stammered. “Yeah, that’d be – that’d be brilliant. Marvelous, even.”

“Great,” she smiled. “I’ll see you Friday, then.”

She turned and all but ran out of the shop, feeling both victorious and faintly sick. She had done it – she had successfully asked John out on a date, and he had even agreed to it!

It was only when she was halfway home that Rose realized she had left without buying a succulent. She would rather be shot than go back for it now, though.

Some other time, then. After Friday. And if the date was a disaster… well, she was sure there were other places to buy succulents in London.


End file.
